


Helpless

by saltedpotato



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedpotato/pseuds/saltedpotato
Summary: Sal and Larry take the time to be the goofy young adults they often forget they are.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 163





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> I replayed all the episodes and just got incredibly sad, so I did what I usually do when facing overwhelming tragedy-- I pretend it doesn't happen and cover it up with sappy smut. Enjoy. 
> 
> (This takes place after high school graduation but before college-- Sal and Larry are both 19)

Sally is curled up in the corner of Larry's bed, the boy himself practically dangling off the edge of it in a position that could only be comfortable to gangly, overgrown teenagers. Sally peers over his Gameboy at him, briefly-- Larry's shirt is riding up his stomach, slipping slowly with each breath that expands his ribs and exposing a broad plane of warm, brown skin. 

Sally swallows and focuses back on his game, though his mind wasn't really on the little pixelated figures. 

It was almost weird-- nearly nothing about the way they hung out or spoke to each other changed when they had gone from 'best friends' to 'boyfriends', but there was still something different about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Shit!" Larry suddenly gripes, sitting up and glaring at his own game. "I nearly fucking had it that time!" 

Sally grins a little as Larry snaps the Gameboy shut and tosses it on the mattress. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to just do that boss fight for you?" He knows what Larry will say, but he asks anyways because sometimes it's fun to be a dick. 

"Oh, shut your yap. I'll get it next time, just you watch." 

"Ooookay," Sally draws it out, sarcastic and a little mean. Larry narrows his eyes and that's all the warning Sally gets before he pounces. 

"You're a little bitch sometimes, you know that?!" Larry laughs as he gets Sally in a headlock and mercilessly noogies him. Sally wraps his arms around Larry and heaves all his weight, sending them both crashing back onto the bed. 

They wrestle and giggle wildly for a minute, nearly pitching themselves off entirely. Sally slams Larry in the face with a pillow and gets tickled until he's cramping with laughter in revenge. 

Finally, Larry triumphantly pins Sally to the bed by sitting on his waist and holding his arms over his head. Larry drops his face into Sally's neck, blows a raspberry that is utterly impressive in how much it sounds like someone ripping ass, and it sends both of them back into a hysterical laughing fit. 

Larry shifts and Sally's laughter peters out softly as he rubs his cheek against Larry's temple, feeling his heart thud against the inside of his ribs. The other boy is a warm weight on top of him and, uh... 

If this keeps up, the half-chub that Sally's got right now is going to become a bigger issue. 

Sally clears his throat and tugs against the grip Larry's got his wrists in. 

"You're crushing me, dingus, hop off," he says. Larry snorts and sits up, but instead of moving off him, he takes both of Sally's hands and twines their fingers together, pressing them gently into the mattress as he smiles crookedly, his eyes bright. Sally's heart leaps into his throat and flutters there unhelpfully. 

"Do you wanna make out?" Larry asks with absolutely _no_ pretext. Sally is glad for his mask in this moment, because he's probably making a _really_ stupid expression right now. 

"Um..." 

"I-it's okay if you don't..." Larry's face suddenly flushes, as if he only _just_ realized what just came out of his mouth. And, knowing Larry, that could very well be the case. "I just-- I thought that we were kind of... doing a _Thing._ Maybe I read the mood wrong--" 

"Larry?" 

"Yeah?" He blurts it so fast he nearly cuts Sally off. The boy in questions huffs. 

"I can't get the clasps if you're holding my hands." 

"Oh... oh! Right!" Larry releases him immediately, and it's kind of cute; Sally feels a bloom of affection in his chest because he capital-L _Likes_ Larry. He lifts his head to get at the straps on his mask and the buckle comes free with a small click. 

This... still makes him a little nervous. But when he takes off his mask and sets it aside, Larry has this goofy, adoring smile on his face as his hands come up to frame Sally's face, warm and sweet. His thumbs gently go over his cheekbones, and Sal can't feel it, not really-- his facial nerves were irreversibly damaged and the scar tissue is thick, but _even then--_

"You are so fuckin' cute," Larry says, bending down so that his forehead touches Sally. His hair falls around them in a curtain, and this feels so precious that Sally is afraid that one wrong move will shatter it into pieces. 

But Larry kisses him and it doesn't shatter. Larry's fingers go through his hair and Sally shudders, breath catching, but it doesn't shatter. 

This isn't the first time they've done this, not by a long shot, but somehow the first few seconds are always nerve-wracking. But just like before, nothing breaks to pieces when the borders of their relationship are tested, when they ease into things neither of them have done before each other.

It's... emboldening. Sally brings his hands up to clutch the back of Larry's head and opens his mouth and his boy makes a soft sound as his tongue slips inside. Sally very quickly decides he likes it. 

His fingers find the hem of Larry's shirt and he palms the skin at his waist that had been teasing him earlier. Larry hums, pleased. 

"You are so cute," Larry repeats, kissing the corner of Sally's mouth where his teeth stick out because of the warping of the scar tissue. He kisses his jaw, and then mouths over his neck-- 

Sally gasp aborts itself so it sounds more like a hiccup. 

Larry pauses and sits up, head tilting. 

"Did I... do something wrong?" 

Sally is having a very weird appreciation for his disfigurement today-- thank god he can't really blush anymore. 

"N-no, it's just..." Sally stutters. He covers his face because suddenly being _seen_ feels mortifying. "I'm... my neck is _really_ sensitive," he mutters from between his palms. Larry lets out a startled laugh. 

"Oh! Pff, well, isn't that a good thing?" His fingers curl around Sally's wrists and pull his hands away from his face. He kisses Sally's palm, just to be a bastard about it. 

"G-good thing?" 

"I mean, yeah? If you like being kissed there, I'd like to kiss you there more... if-- if that's alright with you?" Larry holds Sal's palm against his cheek, his thumb stroking softly over his wrist and it's so unbearably saccharine and affectionate Sally almost can't stand it. 

His pants are getting tight. 

"We... we should stop," Sal stammers. Larry looks unexpectedly disappointed. 

"Oh... alright. Um-- can I ask why?" He tilts his head again and Sal's hand falls to rest on Larry's thigh instead. He swallows thickly. 

"Uh... I'm having... a problem..." He forces out and maybe he still _can_ blush because why else does his face feel like it's on fucking _fire._

"Huh?" 

And then, to Sally's _eternal_ embarrassment, Larry _turns around_ and spots his pretty damned obvious hardon. 

"Oh! How is that a problem?" Larry says and he _grins_ and Sally has never wanted to jump someone's bones more badly. But he swallows again. 

"I just don't want to pressure you into doing something you don't want to. We can just kiss, I'm fine--" 

"Who says I don't want to?" Larry cuts in. 

There's a _heavy_ beat of silence. 

"D... _do_ you want to?" 

"I mean, yeah? You're my boyfriend and we've been dating for like two months? This seems like... y'know the next logical step." 

"Are you _sure?"_

"What makes you think I'm not?" 

"I dunno..." Sal purses his lips uncomfortably as his own insecurities are aired without even being verbalized. Larry's expression softens and he trails calloused fingers down Sal's arms lightly. 

"If you want to stop, we can stop, and I'll say no more about it. But I _want_ to, Sal-- you are a smoking hot--”

“Oh my _God...”_

“Desirable--”

“Larry--”

“Bombshell booty fucking--”

“LARRY!” 

He bats at Larry’s face, but misses because the dickhead leans back and laughs. Sal finally bucks his hips hard enough to unbalance Larry and he yanks him until he flops onto the mattress beside him with an _‘oof!’_ Their legs are still a tangle but Larry seems content to leave them like that as he grabs for the pillow that had gotten shoved against the headboard during their brief wrestling bout. 

Larry pulls him close until they’re nestled comfortably on the same pillow, nearly flush; Sally can count his lashes and see the flecks of green in his eyes. Larry slips a hand under his shirt, thumb tracing the jut of his hipbone. 

“So, is this cool?” He asks. Sally brushes his tangled hair back from his forehead and initiates the kiss this time. 

“Yeah, it’s cool. So... like... what do you have in mind?” Sal asks a little nervously. Larry chuckles, and Sal can see the color rising in his cheeks again. 

“Nothin’ complicated. We can just... stay like this,” his fingers trace the hem of Sally’s jeans, dipping into them just a little; Sal’s heart skips. “Okay?”

“... Sure.” 

They laugh a little nervously at each other and Larry bites his lip. The knee that’s been resting between Sally’s thighs shifts, pressing up a little higher, and Sal hums lightly as a curl of warmth goes through his gut. Sal responds with a more confident roll of his hips, pushing his fingers through Larry’s hair and pulling him into another loose, open kiss. Sal feels him smile against his mouth and Larry rolls onto his elbow, putting him partially on top of him again. Sal is about to complain, maybe poke fun, but then Larry latches his mouth on his neck and all that leaves his mouth is a garbled whine. 

Larry pushes his hand against Sal’s growing tent and his hips twitch up. 

“Oh _shit,”_ Sal mumbles. The bolt that goes through him is this ravenous mix of pleasure and anxious excitement but it’s... good. He likes it. He lifts his hips into the touch again and scrapes his blunt nails along Larry’s scalp. “Okay... okay this is nice.”

Sal bites his lip, and decides to just go for it. He frees his hands and drops them to his jeans, working his belt from the loop and undoing his button and fly before he can think better of it. 

“Alright, I get the message, I’m being boring,” Larry snickers. 

“Shut up,” Sal grumbles. “Lift your hips so I can get yours too.”

Undoing somebody else’s pants is a little bit more difficult than expected-- who knew that just mirroring the actions made jeans so fucking _complicated,_ but there is something to be said about Sal’s horny determination. 

Feeling bolder by the second, Sal pushes his hand into Larry’s jeans, feeling him out through his boxers. Larry sucks in a breath through his teeth, jerking. 

“Jesus...” he breathes it like a prayer and Sal wants to kiss him again. So he does. 

“Do you, um...” he mumbles. “Do you-- have anything?” 

“Anything...?” When Larry opens his eyes, the brown is quickly being swallowed by his pupils, his cheeks ruddy and warm. His blinks. “Oh! Oh, well fucking _duh,_ I’m a teenaged male aren’t I?”

“I think you’re getting a little old for that excuse,” Sal teases, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch as Larry leaves the bed to rummage in his dresser for lube. 

“Hey, I’m still a teenager for two more weeks.” 

“And then you have to face the terrifying pressure of being your twenties.”

“ _Ugh,_ don’t remind me-- you’re ruining the mood.” 

Larry unearths a half-empty bottle of generic lube, complete with its own little pump dispenser, with a satisfied little _ah-ha._ He turns around and pauses when he sees Sal watching him. 

“Wh... what? Is there something on my face?”

He looks good like this-- like, “how-did-I-ever-get-my-hands-on-this” good, with kiss-bruised lips and undone pants that slip low on his hips and even messier hair than usual. He’s bulked up over the past year without even _trying_ and he’s just...

“You’re just hot.”

Larry sputters a little, before deciding to forgo words entirely and just crawl back into bed with Sally. 

“Shut up,” he finally settles on, a little juvenile. Sal scoffs, letting Larry put a leg between his thighs again, settling on his back as Larry props himself over him, tossing the bottle onto the bed beside them. 

“How witty. Did you practice tha--?”

Being kissed wasn’t the worst way Sal’s ever been shut up, so he lets it go. It was easy enough to just fall back into the warmth and the faint buzzing in his skull as Larry starts rock rhythmically against him. 

Sal moans softly as Larry’s fingers finally dip into his boxers, curling around him warmly. 

“Still cool?” He asks. 

“God, it’s _fine,_ Lar,” Sal says with an exasperated chuckle, nipping Larry’s lower lip gently. “It’s... _more_ than fine.” To prove his point, he shimmies his jeans down his thighs so that Larry is free to do as he pleases. 

“Just...” Larry sounds hoarse as he tries not to stare. “Just checking.”

“I know. I’m fine though,” Sally says, fitting Larry’s cheek into his palm and giving the best attempt at a smile his ruined face will allow. But strangely enough--

“I love you,” Larry says helplessly. 

\--Sally doesn’t feel ruined at all. 

He helps Larry push his own jeans down his hips it’s more satisfying than he would of thought, holding the weight and girth of him in his hand, listening as his breath comes out ragged by his ear. It’s _nice,_ being able to do something for Larry like this, being able to show him how dearly Sal thinks of him. 

“W-wait,” Larry stammers. His hand fumbles for the lube and it takes two tries to get some smeared on his hand but _oh jesusfuckingshit._

Larry takes both of them in one wide hand and Sal hiccups over another quiet whine, arching his back.

“Like this?”

“Y-yeah, just like that.”

It’s a little awkward, shifting, trying to find the right position, the right rhythm, but god damn, when they _find it--_

Sal is just happy that the basement walls are thick. 

Larry has his face buried in Sal’s neck, his breath fanning across his collarbone, and Sal’s hand tries to hold as much of Larry as he can, skating his palms over his ribs, up the dip of his spine, nails leaving mild red welts in the process. 

“F-fuck, _Sal--”_

Ah, shit. It’s almost embarrassing, how easily Sal feels himself winding up, a persistent quiver starting up in his thighs as he clenches them around Larry. 

“Larry,” he gasps. “Lar, _please,_ I’m so close--”

“I gotcha, Sal. C’mon, I gotcha...”

Sally’s head lifts, pressing back hard into the pillow and covering his mouth as an absolutely _embarrassing_ noise leaves his throat as he comes, spilling over his stomach and shirt which he had, stupidly, forgotten to push up. Ah, well-- he’ll know better next time. 

“God _damn,_ Sal-- you’re so fucking pretty,” Larry groans. He’s stilled, but he’s still hard and that’s just not going to work is it. 

Sal feels boneless and gooey, but he has enough strength to push Larry off of him, flipping their positions so he can take his boy in hand. 

“Wait, I can--”

“Let me do it,” Sal shushes him. “Please let me do it?” 

Larry bites his lip and then nods, going limp against the mattress, thighs instinctively spreading and he looks so, _so good like this,_ lifting his hips and practically fucking into Sal’s hand. His hands clutch at the sheets, and Sal kisses his jaw sweetly, nipping gently. 

“Ah, _ah,_ S-Sal...” Whatever he was going to say, it’s drowned out by a whimpering cry as his head falls back and he _comes._

Sal stares, unabashedly, almost mesmerized-- _he_ did this, _he_ made Larry make those sounds, make that absolutely beautiful, blissed out expression on his face. He feels spunk drip over his fingers, slick and quickly starting to cool and it’s the vague sticky grossness of it that sort of breaks the spell. 

He kisses Larry’s mouth softly, nudging him with what’s left of his nasal bridge. 

“Hey, you good?”

Larry giggles a little manically. 

“Am I _good?_ No, my brain leaked out somewhere on the floor-- I need to go mop it up,” he snorts. Sal rolls his eyes, but sits up and starts searching for tissues. Thankfully, these are closer, sitting on the bedside table and he’s able to grab a few without worsening the mess on both of them. 

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, cleaning himself up as best as he can and tucking himself back into his pants. “This one’s kind of...” He trails off.

“Oh, sure-- here, gimme that one, I’ll do your laundry.” Larry shuffles off the bed and hikes his pants up his hips-- but not before Sal gets an eyeful of pale, Larry-ass, making him grin a little. 

Sal throws his legs over the side of the bed and shucks his shirt, balling it up and tossing it at the basket in the corner of Larry’s room. 

“Here, I think this one’ll fit... Arms up.” 

A little confused, Sal lifts his arms and lets Larry shove a dark tee over his head. His hair gets a rush of static as it pops through, and he raises a nonexistent eyebrow at Larry, who looks unreasonably giddy. His own shirt has magically disappeared, showing off his broad chest that is starting to become peppered with dark hair. 

Sal blinks away muddied thoughts of how beefy his boyfriend is getting.

“... What?”

“There. Now you have a boyfriend shirt,” he says. “All yours.” 

Sal blinks, then looks down at the shirt. A faded Sanity’s Fall logo stares back up at him, and Sal realizes that this is one of Larry’s oldest and most beloved articles of clothing. 

“Dude, I can’t--”

“ _Yes_ you can, that one doesn’t even fit me anymore. My boobs are too big,” and to prove his point, he flexes a little, lips puckered in an exaggerated smolder. Sal rolls his eyes and smacks him lightly in the gut before relenting and settling his hands on Larry’s hips. 

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. You look better in it anyways.” 

Sal doesn’t really know what to say. Larry treats it like it’s such a simple gesture, but there’s this ball of fluff in his chest that’s expanding and making words difficult. There’s one thing that comes easily, though. Sal sighs and tilts his head back so he can rest his chin on Larry’s sternum. 

“Larry?”

“Hm?” He tilts his head, tenderly brushing some of Sal’s hair off his forehead. 

“I love you,” Sal says, helpless. 


End file.
